


Soporific

by TheDarknessFactor



Series: The Scientific Implications of Two Sisters [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Fear, Gen, Master-Apprentice Relationship, Sith Inquisitor Prologue, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 13:46:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6241714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDarknessFactor/pseuds/TheDarknessFactor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The way S'kora sees it, she's been taken from a Nexu den and thrown into a Manka Cat lair.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soporific

**Author's Note:**

> Because there isn't enough about either of these relationships. Enjoy!

Meditation is like walking among ghosts.

S'kora drifts among all the beings in Kaas City, drinking in their emotions.  Joy and sadness alike tell stories all on their own, fueling the constant burn of energy that she feels.  It has never stopped in the last three years, and S'kora is beginning to doubt that it ever will.

Slowly, she begins to retreat back into herself.  The most virulent presence – Khem – once again takes up residence in her awareness, and she suddenly feels the urge to activate her lightsaber.  She grabs hold of that urge, using it to fuel her energy, and realizes that her nails are digging into her palms.

 She opens her eyes with an exhale when she hears her comm beeping.

 Frowning, S'kora checks the time.  3:32 in the morning, right smack in the middle of curfew.  She presses the button to activate her comm, and is somehow unsurprised to see Zash on the other end.

“Apprentice,” Zash greets.  “Meet me in my office, please.”

S'kora can feel Zash reaching out to her, searching for some kind of internal response.  S'kora sends her a silent acknowledgement, and stands.

She briefly debates forgoing her armor, but her simple sleepwear looks too much like the clothes she used to wear before her training.  She changes, then draws up her hood and slips through the Sith sanctuary, keeping her head down and reducing her presence in the Force so that she's barely noticed.  She cannot stop herself from tensing when she passes by the room where Khem is staying.

Zash has datapads and old relics piled all over her desk.  Though S'kora doubts she has slept, she still looks as refreshed as she did the day before.

“Apprentice,” Zash says warmly.  “Come in.  Take a seat.”

S'kora sits in another chair.  “Have you some inane errand for me to run,” she said, “Or were you just incredibly bored?”

“Don't be droll,” Zash scolds.  “Though I must say that it is an excellent time for an assassination, and there are some other Sith getting on my nerves…”

S'kora raises an eyebrow.

“That was a joke.”

“Apologies, Master.  I can never tell.”

Zash rolls her eyes.  “I'm not like Darth Marr, or Darth Thanaton, S'kora.  I actually try to maintain a sense of humor.”

S'kora starts at the use of her name, but Zash's gaze is elsewhere, and she does not see it. 

Zash’s tone becomes more business-like.  “I’m having some trouble translating these Sith tablets.  You may assist me with them, or you may return to bed.  Though the second option seems unlikely, since I doubt you’ll be doing much sleeping.”

S’kora stares.  It takes her a moment to process the ‘you may’ part of Zash’s request.

“My reading skills are severely limited,” she admits.  “And I have zero experience in any kind of translation.  I… only speak basic.”

“Well, you _are_ here to learn,” Zash points out.  She sighs.  “With your competence when fighting, I’d nearly forgotten that we have quite a ways to go on the more theoretical aspects of your apprenticeship.  How much experience with scholarship have you had?”

“I received rudimentary lessons in writing Basic as a child,” S’kora says, briefly recalling her mother drilling her and Kulah’ni on the symbols.  “But, other than that…”

Zash raises both eyebrows.  “A _very_ long way to go, then.  No matter— there’s no better time for learning than on sleepless nights.”

Lord Zash employs a learn-by-doing technique— the first thing she does is instruct S’kora to skim through the symbols on the tablets and look for repeated patterns.  Two hours pass before S’kora starts to actually test the patterns on other parts of the text, by which time the silence of the Sith Sanctum is replaced by a dulled murmur, as servants, Sith, and other Imperials start to move about the day.

It isn’t long after this that S’kora starts to feel her eyelids drooping.  She manages to persevere through the task for another hour, until the datapad that she’s using a reference clatters onto the floor.

“Get some rest,” Zash instructs— and this time it’s an order.  For once, S’kora doesn’t have the energy to reply, and for once, she falls asleep almost instantly.

* * *

 

It becomes a vicious pattern.

Zash’s disapproval is subtle, but S’kora can sense it underneath the layers of deception that her master likes to conceal.  Still, she allows S’kora to join her in her research when even meditation becomes impossible for her, and without fail S’kora stumbles back to bed in order to get a few hours of much-needed rest.

The rest of her time is spent out in the jungle, or making runs to the Dark Temple.  She has seen what that place does to intruders, but it feels more like home than Kaas City ever has.

She flits between shadows, following a safe path that only the Dark Side can reveal.  The whispers surround her and tug at her consciousness, but she bats them aside like they’re the flies that gather in the jungle.  The Temple is home to a thousand ghosts, and they all burn through her as the Dark Side does.

“The little Sith should not let her guard down in this place,” Khem says.

“I have nothing to fear, here.”  _Besides you._

He lets out a noise that might be the human equivalent of a snort.  “You grow more foolish by the day, little one.”

S’kora smirks, and decides to steal a quote from Zash.  “Who’s the more foolish— the fool, or the fool who follows her?”

“I do not have a choice in this.”

“Worry not, Khem.”  S’kora can see where the Dark Side is leading her, and presses on several stone panels, opening another passageway.  “I’ll protect you from the big, bad monsters.”

“Humor is not appreciated, little one.”

“For a Force-consuming assassin, you can be surprisingly dull.”

That night (or the next morning, depending on who is asked), S’kora is reading up on Gree technology when Zash breaks their usual silence.

“You know that Khem doesn’t speak Basic, right?”

S’kora looks up from her datapad as Zash’s words register.  Her eyes widen.

“…what?”

Zash smiles.  “You mentioned that you had no other education aside from Basic writing, correct?  And yet you’re able to understand every word Khem speaks.  I was curious about how easily you communicate with him— he speaks in a dialect that was lost years ago— but I wasn’t sure until you told me about your education.”

S’kora frowns.  “I’m fairly certain that the Force doesn’t magically grant someone the ability to translate languages.”

“Oh no, of course not,” Zash laughs.  “But you have been instinctually using it to survive for years, now.  I suspect that you can subconsciously sense Khem’s intent and feelings when he speaks well enough that it’s almost as good as a translation.  It helps that he is a being of almost entirely darkness.”

“…is there a point to this conversation?”

“Yes.”  Zash folds her hands and gives her a pointed look.  “You are his better, S’kora.  It’s time you stopped being terrified of him.”

S’kora does her best to look skeptical, ignoring the way that her gut clenches. 

“Oh, you hide it well,” Zash says.  “But I know, and Khem certainly knows.  He’s not going to be leaving your side anytime soon, S’kora, and the day when he attempts to devour you is far away.”

“Far away as in ‘never going to happen’?”

“Oh, he will one day, no doubt,” Zash says.  S’kora fails to see how that’s supposed to make her feel better.  “You two are more similar than you know.  Like yours, his power is instinctual— he practically breathes the dark side of the Force.  But bear in mind that you survived years of enslavement, and you ought to have been dead at least five times over.  Now you’re closer to healthy than you have been in a long time.  He wouldn’t stand a chance.”

S'kora ends up reading for another hour or so before she heads to bed.  She draws the covers up to her chin, wondering if it really is that simple.  She can sense Khem only a few rooms away, his presence blurring the edges of her Force-sense.

She closes her eyes, and breathes.

 It's a start.

* * *

 

Grathan's compound is a mess of chaos.

His forces have little to no organization to them - it's easy for S'kora to slip through them.  Khem is slightly more difficult to conceal, but the purpose of this assignment is for her to learn to extend some of her more instinctive abilities to other beings.  She has to stretch her awareness so that his presence fits neatly within hers.

They fulfill their task, and begin to retreat.  The eyes of most of the guards slide past them due to S'kora's use of the Force – all except for one Sith apprentice.

 Said Sith apprentice manages to shove his lightsaber through Khem's chest before S'kora can even begin to react.

 The apprentice doesn't last very long.  S'kora invades his mind like an infection, and then dispatching him with her lightsaber is simple. 

Khem hasn't even moved.  “I do not require medical attention.”

“Yes, because I was obviously _so_ concerned.”  But S'kora cannot deny the ice that flooded her veins when the lightsaber burned through him.  She also notices that he's now standing to her left instead of behind her, which was where he had been before.  She glances at him in surprise, then continues their trek back to the Wall.

* * *

 

Zash sends her to the spaceport, promising a starship of her own and assigning her the task of finding Sith artifacts.  S’kora does not dare protest the decision, but she cannot help the slight pang at the thought of departing Dromund Kaas. 

She stands in the hangar, staring up at a ship that seems far too large.  Sure something like this cannot be _hers_.

She boards in silence, marveling at the pristine state of the interior and the advanced tech.  The dark hues of the ship are no surprise to her (it’s as though she’s bringing some of Dromund Kaas with her, but without the heavy weight of Sith bureaucracy and the whining of bigots who all demand attention and then cry when they don’t get it).  2V-R8 is another surprise, and she completely fails to give it an order, stammering that it ought to do as it sees fit.

“Thank you, Master,” Toovee replies.  S’kora cannot begrudge it its cautious tone.

She’s had mandatory lessons in the flight simulators, but a nervous thrill still races through her as she pilots the ship out of the spaceport and heads for the stars.

S’kora has always been carted around the galaxy as cargo.  Now, it’s a breath of fresh air to be at the helm.

Once she sets a course for Balmorra, she reaches out with the Force.  Zash is too far away for her to sense by now, but she makes the attempt to anyway, her hand falling back to her side as she realizes that she was physically reaching out as well.  She looks for Khem next, finding him in the crew quarters.

“I see you’ve settled in,” she comments.  He’s leaning against the short span of wall between the two sets of bunk beds; it’s obvious that he hasn’t bothered with any of them.

Khem is smarter than his disposition suggests— he’s already learned to ignore her glib comments.  “You should name your ship, little Sith,” he tells her.  “Make your claim on this vessel.”

S’kora has a feeling that, to Khem, ‘make your claim’ means something like executing enemies on board, but that he has decided that naming will do for now.

“I’ll think about it,” she says.

He bows his head, conceding her decision, and she realizes that it’s the first time he’s shown her true respect.

It must be a day of firsts— that night is the first night that sleep comes easy.

**Author's Note:**

> Additional notes:
> 
> 1\. I barely see enough fanfiction about the Inquisitor's relationship with Zash _or_ Khem. Both characters are utterly fascinating, and I plan to explore them and their dynamics with S'kora further.
> 
> 2\. We all know what Zash is up to, but I think that (in spite of her plans), she did genuinely care about the Inquisitor - which almost makes it worse. In this case, S'kora respects Zash, but she doesn't quite trust her. 
> 
> 3\. Think about what it must have been like for S'kora at this point in time - she's gone from being a slave to a Sith Apprentice, and there's no way of knowing which is really more dangerous. So she has some difficulties with insomnia and anxiety, which Zash recognizes will be debilitating in the long run (even to a Sith). It doesn't help that her only 'ally' is a Dashade who intends to eat her at some point.
> 
> 4\. I've stretched the timeline a bit so that S'kora underwent three years of preliminary training before she went to Korriban for her trials. She's now 22.
> 
> 5\. I thought it was sort of strange that the Sith Inquisitor was the class that was the more 'scholarly' of the two Sith classes, while at the same time the Inquisitor is a former slave. Where would they have learned to do anything scholarly? So I addressed that here.
> 
> Feel free to ask questions at my [tumblr](http://darknessfactor.tumblr.com/ask). Thanks for reading!


End file.
